Dear Lillie
by An Author's Pen
Summary: Two years after becoming Alola's first champion, Moon didn't expect to be scraping a living in Unova's largest city, struggling to care for her pokemon and to support her mother. It takes a chance encounter with an old friend to turn things around.
1. Prologue: Dear Lillie

When I'm too tired to stand it anymore and close my eyes, I'm back at the festival. It's funny how every detail remains so vivid in my mind. The Alolan sky sprawls out over us in a starry tapestry; the air is warm and smoky from the bonfire blazing blue at the center of the clearing. You're smiling, the moonlight reflecting silver off your hair. I keep looking from the moon to your smile, and back again. It's hard to say which is brighter.

Somehow, everything made sense that night. The future felt like a mountain pass laid out in front of me, rocky and shrouded in fog, but with something miraculous waiting at the top.

Only a week later, you left.

Hau cried his eyes out when we saw you off, but I wasn't able to say anything at all. It was like I was under-water and choking on salt. My eyes itched and my throat burned, but no words came out. I wish I had been able to say something to describe the sheer panic that flipped my stomach when I heard the news, but I wonder . . . If there was anything I could have said that would have changed your mind.

I had thought, that night, when we watched the fireworks burst, when we snuck off together and watched Tapu Koko dance, when you took my hand . . . I've never been so good with words, and I thought you were saying that was okay. That you were answering a question I hadn't known how to ask, and saying yes.

We got the diagnosis three months after you left. Then everything happened at once. They told us the best treatment would be in Unova. Alola certainly didn't have the proper facilities, unless we wanted to trust Mom's life to mysticism and traditional herbs. Professor K organized another festival to see us off. It felt like a cruel joke to me. You weren't there, Hau was sobbing in the corner, and the tapu didn't come. Somehow that hurt the most—the island's guardian had been the one to believe in me when I first arrived. Now even the tapu had given up on me.

I hated Unova at first sight. Everything was congested and loud. The people spoke too quickly, as if they were in a hurry to get the conversation over with. There was nowhere to hear yourself think.

We found a tiny apartment within a block of the General Hospital. Mom apologized that the place was so small. She wasn't sure how much the medical bills would be, she told me. And she was afraid her savings wouldn't go very far.

I said I didn't mind. Of course I said that. But my room didn't even have space to let out my pokemon all together. When I realized that, I wanted to scream, but instead I just cried these ugly, muffled tears into my pillow. I didn't want Mom to hear, and the walls were so thin.

I thought the prize money I'd saved up in Alola would help—but when I took it to the conversion exchange, it hardly amounted to anything. Alolan currency doesn't mean much, it turns out, in Unova.

Then I thought I could win some money here. I could still battle, after all. I was Alola's first champion!

Paying the entrance fee to my first tournament cost me a fourth of my savings. They inspected my pokemon before battle, and told me my Z-crystals were forbidden. I didn't recognize the typing of my opponent's pokemon and made mistake after mistake. I only lasted into the second round and what's worse, I hated it.

I thought of you, actually, in that tournament room, with the loudspeaker buzzing, the crowds screaming, the harsh electric lights blazing against my skin. It was nothing like battles back in Alola, when my toes dug into the sand, when I could hear every movement my pokemon made. When I felt part of something bigger than myself. I understood how you could hate battling, if battling was like this.

After that, I promised my pokemon we wouldn't compete in any more tournaments. I'd help my mom some other way. The next day I found a job in a local cafe. It doesn't pay much, but it's something, at least. It's enough to make a difference.

Since, it's you, I can tell you a secret. Well, and it's not like you're going to read this anyway. You didn't leave us an address to reach you by. That's the kind of careless thing I might do but you—you were never careless. So was it on purpose, then? Maybe you didn't want us to weigh you down, with your whole life stretching out in front of you. Maybe you also saw a path that night, and it led away from mine.

Since you won't get this letter, telling you my secret is like digging a hole in the sand and burying my words there. So here goes.

I want to travel. I want the open air. This city makes me feel like I'm suffocating all the time. I want to walk at night, and see the moon. That's the only thing that gets me to sleep anymore, when I can see the full moon from my window. It makes me think that you and I are both watching her, that she's watching over both of us.

I'm pretty horrible, huh? Here's my mom, on the edge of dying, and I want to leave her.

You wouldn't understand that at all, I know. Your mom was horrible, and you would have given up everything to take care of her. It makes me a bit angry, actually. I sometimes wish my mom had a daughter like you, and I had a shitty mom like Lusamine. I'd have left her to rot in prison . . or maybe I'd have left her in that alternate dimension that she was so ready to sacrifice the world for. I keep dreaming of it, the slow purple poison filling up my lungs, burning the inside of my throat. Then a gelatinous monster bursts out of your insides and you're reaching out to me, but I can't breath so I can't run and I am always too late . . .

I'm always too late to save you.

But then, you don't really need saving anymore. It was so simple that first time, when I flung my body over Nebby's and felt the spearrows' hard beaks against my back.

This time it's different. This time I'm the one who wants to call out. But there aren't any spearrows, and there's no bridge, and anyway . . .

You're not there.

* * *

A/n: The Sun/Moon fix-it fic, because all the cool kids were doing it :D


	2. Castelia City

Moon woke to her bed on fire. She pushed herself upright, fumbled blindly for the extinguisher, and pulled back the nozzle. As the spray of coolent hit the blankets, an indignant meow rose up from the covers.

"Kesia," Moon rasped, "what did I tell you about fire in the house?"

Glinting yellow eyes blinked in the early morning darkness. The litten was perched on the edge of the bed, wearing a disgruntled expression. Her black and red fur, normally pristine, was coated with residue from the fire extinguisher. Without removing her eyes from Moon's face, she lifted a paw to her mouth and began to lick herself clean.

Moon groaned, letting her head fall back onto the pillow, face-first, and burying herself in the blankets. Her whole body hurt, a low-level ache that had started months ago, and never gone away. She lifted her watch to her face—4:07. It was almost time to get up. And she'd have to clean up the mess from the fire as well. Moon groaned again, squeezing her eyes shut. At times like this, even a single minute of glorious, untroubled blackness was precious.

Suddenly, she felt the rough, warm rasp of a tongue on her neck. She lay still, and let Kesia work her tongue through her hair, knowing the grooming was as close as her litten would get to an apology. When Kesia finished and padded away across the bed, Moon sat up, recognizing that the night was over. Her neck felt sticky and tingling where Kesia's tongue had made contact, and her sheets smelled like smoke. She turned on the light to inspect the damage: it wasn't so bad, really, just one patch of blanket charred, having caught fire when the friction of litten's tongue kindled sparked against her fur. Moon hasn't realized the dangers of Kesia's habitual grooming until she'd shared a bed with her litten. In Alola, Kesia had always liked to sleep outdoors, on the sand. But that wasn't an option here.

Moon gathered up the ruined blanket, tossed it in a garbage bag along with the spent fire extinguisher, and opened the window so the smell could vent. The draft instantly brought the room's temperature from stuffy to uncomfortably chill. On the bed, Kesia whined in protest.

"As you sow, so shall you reap," Moon told her, and left for the bathroom.

Inside, the water that filled the tub glistened in the moonlight.

"Morning," Moon murmured, turning on the sink's faucet and lowering her face into the stream of water. One advantage of getting up early – the heat wasn't used up. The water scoured her face, chasing away the last of her morning stupor. She turned off the faucet, her face still dripping.

A gentle gurgle rose from the bathtub. Moon walked over and bent down on her knees. "How are you doing today?"

A tentacle emerged from the water, wrapped around Moon's hand, and tugged.

"Careful," she warned her toxapex. "I don't have my gloves on."

The tentacle retreated, as if burned.

"Is it okay if I turn on the light?" Moon asked.

Medusa bubbled an affirmative.

Moon examined her under the weak fluorescent light, frowning. Of all her pokemon, the transition to Castelia had hit Medusa the hardest. In Alola, she'd been able to spend a few hours in the ocean every day. When Moon slept at the pokemon center, she'd release Medusa off into the water. But Castelia city had no water. The closest thing was the fountains.

Moon had brought her to a fountain, a few weeks after they arrived. Medusa had gotten so excited. Her spikes extended and she began to spurt poison all over the place. That's what toxapex do when they're happy – it's instinct, and it's not like they can help it. The toxin isn't the same as the one they use in battle; it's not deadly and breaks down much faster.

But everyone had freaked out. They'd even called the police on her and the next day a fine for destruction of public property had turned up in the mail. The whole thing tore Medusa up. She wouldn't come out of her shell for days with guilt. If Medusa had felt bad, though, Moon had felt even worse. If she hated living in her tiny room, what must it be like for Medusa, trapped in a bathtub, barely able to turn herself around?

After a few weeks, Medusa's vivid coloring had begun to dim, and the slick firmness of her tentacles had softened, the flesh yielding frighteningly to Moon's touch. She'd called Professor K up, hoping he'd know what to do. He'd smiled sympathetically, but hadn't been able to offer much help, besides a suggestion to melt sodium pills in Medusa's water. Taking pokemon outside of their native inhabitant always held some risk, he'd said. No one had studied toxapex outside of Alola's oceans, and he couldn't very well isolate one in his lab just to figure it out. That would be too cruel . . .

Grimacing at the memory, at the careful lack of judgment in Professor K's eyes, Moon stood abruptly.

"How about a shower then?" she said.

Medusa surged up in the tub, the salty water splashing up on all sides.

"Okay, okay!" Moon replied, laughing. "A shower it is."

Medusa always enjoyed the sensation of water pouring down on her. Maybe they could go out when it rained, Moon mused. During a real downpour, when the water fell in sheets, thick and heavy – wouldn't that be just like being under the sea?

Her smile slowly faded. And if she closed her eyes tightly at night, couldn't she imagine the Alolan sky spread out above her, bright and limitless?

No. It wasn't the same at all.

Once she was dressed, Moon made her way up to the roof, where Enoki lived now. Their apartment was on the 6th floor, far from the ground and the light, so her shiinotic had taken to living on the roof. Moon had gathered some dirt so she could put down roots. It was smoggy in the city, but at least on the roof there was some light for Noki to feed on.

"Hey," Moon said, catching sight of Enoki's pink cap shining in the moonlight. "Hera and I are off for the morning. Do you want to come?"

Enoki swayed side to side, considerate. Moon waited patiently, familiar with her shiinotic's indecisiveness. At last, the prospect of actual earth seemed to win out over the familiar lethargy of the rooftop. Noki waved her long, pale tendrils.

"Come here, then, you," Moon said. Enoki waddled forward slowly, detaching her roots one by one and drawing them back into her body. Familiar with this ritual, Moon held her hand forward, so Shiinotic could probe it with the sensitive tendrils on her arms.

"Everything good?" Moon asked. Enoki deliberated, and then answered the way she had each morning for the past year: good light need good dirt need.

"You and me both," Moon murmured, helping Shiinotic into her backpack. The fungal pokemon liked to take in the early morning light. Her enormous cap jutted precariously from the pack, as Moon took the fire-stairs down to the street.

Once her feet were touching the ground again, Moon released Hera. Her kommo-o greeted the dark morning air with a happy cry, swishing her tail back and forth with enough strength to create small gusts. In Moon's cramped apartment, Hera couldn't move her tail without knocking something over.

Moon had always considered Hera the most level-headed of her team. It had been a shock to see what a week without battle or readily available exercise did to her. She had become a twitching ball of aggression, liable to snap at anyone who came near. Moon had read up more on Hera's species. The harsh mountains that were their native habitat allowed only the fittest to survive and so kommo-os were hardwired to run and playfight until their massive energy was expended. It had never been a problem in Alola, but out here, Moon had been forced to develop this early morning routine. They would jog out to the outskirts of the city, and train there until the sun made an appearance in the sky.

Moon didn't mind Castelia city in the pre-dawn hours. She enjoyed the stillness of the air, the cessation of motion, the wide, looming avenues that in daytime would be packed with chaotic noise and smoggy light.

She and Hera made a loop of the city's inner circle, training in a crumbling side ally as light crept into the sky. As they began their cool-off exercises, Moon noticed a shadow pooling along the wall.

"Hey Snap," she said wearily. "Have you been keeping out of trouble?"

Her mimikyu snickered as she solidified in the alleyway.

"Never mind," Moon said with a mock sigh. "I don't want to know."

Snap was the only one of them who had truly flourished in the city. The mimikyu was used to dark, cluttered spaces. She disappeared every night, often staying away for weeks at a time. It had worried Moon at first, until she'd accepted that the city was in more danger from Snap than Snap was from the city.

Now Snap was excreting something from under the folds of her clothe disguise. Moon bent down to examine it—a wallet, complete with cash and a sparkling trainer's card.

Moon felt her stomach twist with something like envy, looking at the card which lay so innocently on the pavement.

"Snap," she said, "we've had this conversation already."

Snap wiggled her head up and down, wordlessly communicating that she knew but also didn't care.

"I'm serious. You're grounded."

Snap rumbled in protest, a low, tenor sound that did not match the mimikyu's fragile appearance.

"What do you expect? You know you can't be doing this. One day someone is going to notice the same girl is always finding stolen wallets, and then I'd be in big trouble. They'd lock us up."

In truth, Moon didn't know exactly what would happen, but it wouldn't be good. There were laws against non-trainers who kept high-level Pokémon, that much she was sure of. She didn't have a license anymore: her Alolan one was no good here in Unova, and as a full-time worker, she was ineligible for a Unovan license. Something about it being impossible to juggle a full work week with training pokemon. When they'd told her that, Moon hadn't been able to keep her mouth from twisting into a grimace. It wasn't like she had much of a choice.

Moon felt a nudge against her legs, and when she looked up she saw that Snap had stuck the trainer's card in her hand.

"What?" she asked.

Snap let out a frustrated sound and indicated the card first, then Moon herself.

It came to her all at once what Snap was trying to say, and she wasn't sure whether to scold her mimikyu further or give her a hug.

"It doesn't work like that, Snapsicles," she said. "Just because I have the card, that doesn't mean I can travel. It isn't mine, it won't change anything. And even if I got a license again, I still couldn't leave my mom."

Snap had nothing to say to that, but her ears lowered slightly, and the shadow grew thicker around her.

"Look, I won't ground you this time. I know you're trying to help. But this isn't helping, okay, Snap? Helping means keeping yourself out of trouble." Moon sighed at her mimkyu's downcast aura. "Hey, come here."

Snap all but rocketed into her arms. For a ghost Pokémon, she was strangely prone to cuddling. They stayed that way for several minutes, Moon's breath coming slow and calm, until she felt the shadows around Mimikyu disperse. Only then did Moon withdraw her arms.

"I had better get going, if I'm going to drop this off at the police station before work. Let's go, Hera."

Mimkyu watched them head off from the shadow of the ally-way.

The sky was mostly light now—it was time for the day to begin. Her shift started at 8:00, in the Alola-Lola cafe. Moon thought it was a stupid name, but it got the point across well enough —the cafe was Alola themed. Moon had been drawn there on her first week in the city by the promise of a malasada. The malasada had been terrible—the dough lumpy, the fillings overly sweet —and she'd amused herself imagining Hau's face if he'd tried it.

The owner had hired her on the strength of her knowledge of Alola, not her experience waitressing, though she'd picked it up quickly enough. Her sandslash, Quinn helped her serve—his Alolan coloring had proved a great hit, and they even named a drink in his honor—the Alolan Ice Quill. When she'd first been hired, Moon had thought it a stroke of luck. But now . . . she eyed that lei that was mandatory for employees with distaste. Each day, the bright Alola she gave to customers grew more insincere. The cafe was a mockery of the culture she'd left behind, distilling a world of dark azure ocean and hidden groves to a cheery postcard image and a few exotic dishes.

When she clocked out at six, she was dead on her feet, and ready to punch the next person who mentioned their planned cruise trip to Alola. The cafe let the employees grab leftovers for dinner—so she filled her stomach on crappy malasadas that left her stuffed, but in some essential way, emptier than ever. It was Tuesday, which meant she was free for the evening. Her night classes were on Monday and Wednesdays—finance classes she'd signed up for at Mom's instigation.

"You can't stay a waitress much longer, Honey, it's a waste of your talents," Mom had said yesterday evening, as they ate dinner, peering up at Moon anxiously, with that ever present shame threaded through face. "There's real opportunities in a big city like this."

There were opportunities in Alola too, Moon thought, but she knew it wasn't fair. Mom had loved Alola just as much as Moon had. She was just trying to make the best of their new life.

"Have you thought of getting back into pokemon battling," Mom had suggested after a moment. "You enjoyed it so much, before. . ."

"It's not happening, Mom," Moon had snapped. She'd regretted her tone immediately and turned away, not wanting to see the hurt blossoming in Mom's eyes.

Moon knew she should head home and get some sleep, but her feet lead her instead towards the city limits, towards the embrace of the open sky. She let Hera out, knowing how much she enjoyed the sight of Castelia at night, with all the buildings lit up and brilliant.

 _I should sleep_ , Moon thought, but the night was too tempting. She made her way slowly to the outskirts of the city.

Out here, it was quiet. With her eyes closed and a cool breeze stirring, Moon could pretend the city was far away. The only sound was a gentle scritching as Kesia dug herself a temporary bed in the dirt. Moon lifted her hand to graze her litten's fur, about to chide her. It was late, they had to head back home. But a wave of exhaustion caught her in the chest. Yawning, she leaned her head back against the ground. The air smelled like pollen and earth, and a rich, fruity smell wafted by.

 _A little longer_ , Moon thought. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she slept.


	3. A Familiar Face

Moon stared at the graph on her desk. The thick black lines seemed to float off the page – they moved up as she inclined her head and slid to the side as she tilted her head. Intent on making the lines dance, she didn't notice the minute hand edge its way past nine, or her fellow students packing their things. She only stirred at a tap on her shoulder. When she looked up, her teacher was standing over her, an unimpressed expression on her face.

"Class is for learning, not sleeping, Moon," her instructor said sternly.

"Yes, Professor Maple," Moon said blankly, trying to hide her frustration. She didn't mean to drift off during class. It was just that her body sometimes let her down.

Maybe Professor Maple glimpsed something of Moon's frustration, because her own expression suddenly softened. "I know you have a lot of responsibilities, young lady. But you can't let them interfere with your sleep. Your brain is still growing, after all! It needs sleep like a bulbasaur needs the sun."

"Like a shiinotic needs the moon," Moon offered, finding a smile.

"Shiinotic . . " Her teacher frowned. "That's an Alolan pokemon, isn't it? A bit reminiscent of our amoonguss?"

"Yes," Moon said. "I have one."

Her teacher surveyed her with new interest, her limp gray eyes magnified by her large, circular glasses.

"I have a foonguss myself, actually. Instead of growing flowers, I turned my yard into a patch of dirt for foonguss to frolic in. My sister thinks its insane, but there's something terribly appealing about a self-sufficient pokemon like that. I'd always hoped she'd evolve into an amoonguss, but I think the space is simply too cramped. The woes of city life." She looked back at Moon. "Perhaps you could bring this shiinotic of yours by some time. I don't know if pokemon of the fungal variety are much inclined to loneliness, but if there's anything I've learned from my fellow teachers—who by the way, are in many ways fungal themselves—it's that everyone appreciates a peer."

"I think Shiinotic would like that," Moon said, meaning it. She thought of Enoki, digging her roots into concrete on the rooftop, and felt her stomach twist with familiar shame.

"You know, Moon, while I have you here, I'd like to pass on an exciting opportunity. The CEO of the multinational Aether Institute is coming to give a talk this weekend. All sorts of recruiters and up-and-comers will be there. It's a good chance to get a look at the scene. And you never know, you may be able to score an internship!" She smiled in a vaguely self-satisfied way. "Well now, what do you say to that, young lady?"

"Thank you, Professor Maple," Moon said dutifully. "I'd be honored to attend." An hour's talk and another hour mingling, Moon calculated. But she would only stay long enough to raid the buffet. If she cut down on Hera's scale polishing session, she could fit that in. She would make it up to Hera with extra-long training the next morning. She frowned. "Hang on, the Aether Institute?"

"That's right. A very powerful company. Of course, they've had some bad press in recent years, some terrible scandal or other, and the jury's still out on whether that young man who took over can provide effective leadership, but on the whole, that company is on the up and up." She scrutinized Moon. "I have a few words of advice for you, young lady. Now don't take offense, but you should get some sleep before attending. It wouldn't do at all if you fell asleep during the talk, now would it? And if you could perhaps wear clothing answering the descriptor of formal, I'm sure we'd be much obliged. And as for your hair—"

"I won't embarrass you," Moon said, smiling tightly. She really didn't need to hear what Professor Maple had to say about her hair. "If you'll, uh, excuse me, I've got to get home. It's getting late."

"Quite right," Professor Maple chirped, nodding. "Got to get your beauty sleep!"

Internally, Moon cringed. It was horrible, being embarrassed on behalf of someone who didn't seem to understand the concept. She almost longed for the days when Professor Maple treated her with icy distaste. Her friendly manner seemed straight out of a mid-century etiquette column. Moon fought off another yawn and bid Professor Maple goodnight.

Arriving home, Moon snuck into the kitchen, trying to prepare dinner with minimum clanging—Mom would be sleeping and Moon didn't intend to wake her. Moon was bleary from tiredness, though, and couldn't seem to cut her onion straight. She squinted down at it, frustrated, pretending that the tears forming in her eyes were a simple allergic reaction.

"Let me get that for you, Honey."

A warm hand took the knife from Moon's limp one. Moon shuffled to the side as Mom took her place in front of the chopping block.

"You should be sleeping," Moon said stupidly, after a minute had passed.

Mom smiled. "Judging from your face, Daughter, it's you who needs to sleep."

"I'm fine," Moon said, wishing she could summon the strength to take back the knife, prepare her meal, and send Mom back to bed. Instead, she found herself sitting down on a stool, watching as the stir-fry began to sizzle enticingly on the stove, a sharp, savory smell filling the air. Her stomach gave a grumble.

Mom laid out two plates, and shoveled stir-fry from the pan, giving Moon the larger portion. She sat down opposite her, studying Moon with concern in her eyes.

"You don't look fine, Moon. I'm worried about you. These early mornings, long hours—you need rest, friends. It's been too long since I've seen you smiling."

"Can we not do this, Mom?" Moon said, her words coming out more sharply than she'd intended. "I'm fine, all right? I'm handling it. I don't need you worrying about me."

Mom stared at her for a long time. "All right," she said at last. "Then we won't talk." She fell silent and studied her own plate, without moving to pick up her fork.

Instantly, Moon was overwhelmed by a surge of guilt. She'd done it again, lashed at Mom just because she was tired, when the whole point of this was to make Mom's life easier.

"Something weird happened today," Moon said tentatively.

Mom looked up. "And what was that?" Her tone was at once warm, like she'd already forgiven and forgotten Moon's outburst.

"My professor, Miss Maple, she mentioned some event—with the Aether institute."

"Aether." Her mother frowned. "The name rings a bell, but . . ."

"It's the company that Lillie's—that Lusamine ran."

Comprehension dawned in Mom's eyes. "Will Lillie be there?"

"What? No, don't be stupid, Lillie's a trainer now. She's traveling." Moon caught herself, realizing that she'd begun to shout. "Sorry. Sorry, I'm too tired right now. I should go to bed."

"This event," Mom said. "Promise me that you'll go?"

"Sure, I promise," Moon said. "You should go back to bed."

Mom smiled at her, eyes fond. "Always trying to take care of me, Daughter. Now if you'd just take better care of yourself."

.

.

Saturday found Moon standing dubiously in a large, but not massive lecture hall, with about fifty seats set out in front of a small elevated stage and podium. She spied a promisingly long buffet table in the back of the room. _Cheeseballs_ , Moon thought happily. And no one would care if she snuck a glass of wine.

Then her breath caught—Gladion had just walked in the room, flanked by two broad-shouldered men in dark suits. Moon barely paid attention when he began to speak, too busy cataloging the changes in him. Gladion, yes, it was Gladion, but in a fitted suit, with neatly trimmed hair, and—by the tapu shining—was that a golden watch glistening on his wrist? His expression, to her eye, was flat and uninterested as he shaped his platitudes. She'd never seen him look dull before. Everything about him had always been frenzied, like a pot boiling over.

Entrepreneurship . . . innovation . . . building a new future . .

When Moon finally tuned into his words, they were enough to tempt her to catch up on her sleep. She began to sway in her seat, her mind drifting. A burst of applause jolted her back awake.

Gladion was walking off the stage, and the crowd was beginning to stand around her.

Moon headed to the buffet, unsure of what to do. Seeing Gladion so suddenly after all this time had passed … at the very least, she didn't want to do it on an empty stomach. Fortified on some fancy balls of cheese, Moon took a breath. There was no point avoiding him. Whatever he was wearing, it was still Gladion. She'd never been afraid of confronting him before.

Moon pushed her way up to the front, where Gladion was taking advantage of a lull in the crowd's attention to check his phone. She tapped him on the shoulder and said, before she could overthink it, "You look about as convincing in that suit as a mimikyu in a pikachu costume."

"Fuck you," Gladion snapped back, seemingly on instinct. All at once animation returned to his face; the tension seeming to have drained out of his body at the insult. Then he actually looked at Moon and did a double-take.

"Wait. You're Moon!" In his surprise, his voice jumped an octave. "What the fuck are _you_ doing here?"

"Soaking in your wisdom," Moon said dryly. The humor came easily.

Gladion laughed. "Hey, fuck you, I have a lot of wisdom." A genuine smile lit up his face. Moon hadn't realized he was capable of smiling like that. He ran a hand through his slicked-back blond hair and looked around distractedly. "Shit. You're the last person I expected to see here. Let's get some food. And catch up?" His certainty faded into a question. "If you want, that is," he added, assuming an air of deliberate nonchalance.

Moon smiled, so widely that it actually hurt. "Sounds good to me."

"Cool," Gladion said, failing to hide his obvious relief. He waved over some men in suits and whispered with them a while. "Okay, I'm free. Those guys. They shove other people out of the way for me, or something. And make sure I'm not making the front pages of the tabloids. They're cool, though."

He slipped on a pair of over-large sunglasses and Moon couldn't stifle a chuckle.

"What?" Gladion asked, aggrieved.

"It's just—you. In a suit. And shades," Moon got out, between giggles.

"Yeah, yeah. I crack up every time I look in the mirror." Gladion was silent as they fell into step on the street outside. "Gotta be honest, this isn't where I expected I'd be two years ago. But things change, I guess." He stopped suddenly outside a restaurant with velvet hangings in the windows. "This place look alright?"

It looked like a macaroon there would probably cost her a week's pay-check, but it was pretty clear that Gladion meant to pay. "Sure," she said.

Inside, they didn't give her a second glance, but one flash of Gladion's Aether company card got them balcony seating. Moon watched with astonishment as Gladion handled the menu, rolling off unfamiliar Kalosian syllables with practiced ease.

He reddened when he noticed Moon watching him with her mouth agape.

"What?" he said moodily.

"I guess it never sunk in that you grew up like this. All fancy restaurants and shiny metal sleeve-rings."

"They're called cuff-links," Gladion muttered. He looked around the restaurant as if seeing it for the first time. "I always hated it all, though. I would never sit still, not like Lillie. I thought the food was gross and refused to eat." His brow furrowed, caught up in memories. "It drove Mother insane. She told me that if I wouldn't eat what I was served, I wouldn't eat at all. Lillie smuggled me some things, but Mother caught her in the end. I don't know how she was punished, but she wouldn't talk to me for days after that. And the hunger was just painful. So I ate the food Mother gave me. And I learned to like it eventually, I guess." He looked vaguely queasy at the memory.

"Your mom sucks," Moon said. It didn't feel adequate, but Moon had never been that great with words.

"Yeah, Mother sucks," Gladion agreed. He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the memory of Lusamine from his head. "But hey, what are you doing here? The last place I'd have expected to see you is one of those corporate pep-talks I give for finance suckers."

"You didn't know I was in Unova?" Moon asked. "I thought Prof K passed that on."

"I knew you were in Unova," Gladion said, rolling his eyes. "Maslada maniac wouldn't stop moaning about it. But I thought you were, you know, traveling."

"Traveling?" Moon repeated. It suddenly felt like something unbearably heavy was pressing down on her. Her mouth didn't seem able to move.

"Traveling. Seeing the world. Training your pokemon. That ring a bell? I always thought Alola's system was kind of dinky. Unova has a real league and all that. Kind of been expecting to see you on the news, actually. The champion here's a bit of a dick. Met him a few times now, at receptions and what not, was looking forward to seeing his face when you crushed him."

"You think I'm just – going to beat Unova's champion? Just like that?" Moon felt her eyes beginning to burn. The restaurant seemed to blur as Gladion shrugged.

"Well maybe not right away. But I mean, I've never seen anyone battle like you. The way you're in sync with your pokemon. The way you took down that ultra beast. I heard Tapu Koko honored you with a battle at the festival, and that you won." Gladion's eyes were shining.

It was too much. It was the last straw. Moon opened her mouth to speak, and to her utter mortification, started to cry. Salty water streamed down her face. _I'm flooding_ , she thought, hysterically. _I'll turn Unova into an island_.

"Shit," Gladion said. His eyes went wide. "Shit, what did I say? Shit shit shit." He repeated the word like a mantra.

In between sobs, Moon started to laugh. His dismay was just too comical; the whole situation was absurd.

"You idiot," she said, "I'm not traveling. My mom's sick. She's dying. We came here for the hospital. We can barely pay the medical bills. I'm working all day, I'm taking shitty finance classes at night." Her voice cracked. "You think I have time to train?"

Moon buried her face in her hands. It was horrible to have Gladion see her looking so weak. He respected her; he'd thought she was some kind of great trainer, about to become a champion. What was he going to think of her now? She tried frantically to get her breathing back under control. Now that she'd started crying, she didn't want to stop. _I'm so tired_ , she thought.

"I'm just so fucking tired," she said aloud, unable to stop herself.

Something sharp pressed into her side. She looked up into a metallic face and concerned eyes.

"Hi Null," she mumbled. The large pokemon let out a creaky roar of greeting and pressed its face further into her side. "It's nice to see you too," Moon said, "but, um, that actually fucking hurts, Null, so maybe a little less up-close and personal affection?"

Null withdrew its large head and continued to examine her with mournful eyes. Moon chuckled hoarsely. She pushed her hair back from her face and hastily wiped her eyes. Across the table, Gladion was hunched up, looking like he was wishing for all the world his suit was hoodie so he could hide under the hood.

"I appreciate your words of comfort," Moon snapped, to cover up her embarrassment.

Gladion gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Null's good with crying people. I'm not. I was usually the one crying." He said it without any particular inflection. "So I'm the last person who's going to judge you," Gladion continued. "I used to think crying meant I was weak. But Null showed me that all crying meant was that I cared. And I've decided caring doesn't make me weak."

Moon exhaled and leaned back against the velvet upholstery, grateful for the dim lighting in the room.

"I can't believe you sound like an adult."

"Yeah, well, neither can I." Gladion reached across the table to stroke Null's crest. "Being a child sucked, and being a teenager sucked way worse. But being an adult sucks in a whole different way."

"That's eloquent," Moon said, almost smiling.

"Eloquent is for company speeches," Gladion shot back. "And sucks is an underrated verb."

"I really missed you," Moon said, surprising herself.

"Same," Gladion said, avoiding her eyes. "When you didn't call, I just thought, well, that you'd moved on. Lillie said you didn't need our drama complicating your life."

"Lillie—" Moon's throat went dry. The world narrowed to just that name. "How – is she?"

"She's—" Gladion hesitated for a moment. Then his fist slammed down on the table, all reserve abandoned. "She's isolating again. When we were kids, and we were upset, I'd pitch a tantrum, but Lillie would just get really, really quiet. It was like she took all her anger and made it into a ball and then swallowed it, except the ball was poisonous and it ate her up from the inside. When we talk these days, she's polite and asks me how the company is going, and tells me how Mother is doing, as if I _care_ how Mother is doing! She doesn't even criticize my clothing anymore! Lillie loves to criticize my clothing." Gladion sighed, suddenly losing steam. "Sorry, I didn't mean to dump that all on you. Guess I've been keeping things bottled up. There's no one I can talk to about Lillie besides you. It doesn't seem like she's made any new friends out in Kanto. No one else really gets her. They think she's snobby or shy or just stupid—"

"She's none of those things," Moon interjected fiercely. "She's the bravest person I know. She's smart and she's silly, and most of all she's goddamn kind. She deserves everything." Moon's own vehemence surprised her. "Everything," she repeated.

Gladion blinked.

"Uh, Moon," he said. "Maybe you could tell her that? She doesn't really believe stuff like that, coming from me. It's different with you."

"What do you mean?" Moon asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Oh you know." Gladion pitched his voice at a mocking falsetto. "Why Gladion, Moon is simply the most wonderful trainer in the world. You should ask yourself what Moon would do in your place. Moon always knows just what to do. Moon is a hero, Gladion."

Moon laughed nervously. "But seriously."

"That was pretty much verbatim."

They stared at each other. As if to capitalize on the conversation's lull, their waiter swooped in, setting down plates of delicately wrought deserts and tall fluted glasses of something bubbly. Moon attacked the food eagerly. Her head was whirling and she wasn't sure she trusted herself to speak. Across the table, she could hear Gladion thinking. His finger was tapping an irritating rhythm against the tablecloth.

"I have a business proposition," Gladion said suddenly.

Moon swallowed a cream-puff and chewed. "What?" she said, when her mouth was clear.

Gladion leaned forward. He'd stopped slouching—this was probably how he looked at board meetings, Moon thought.

"You—" he said, pointing at Moon, "—are a talented trainer. What you need is money. The Aether Corporation has money. What we need is good publicity. Our reputation still hasn't recovered from Mother's craziness. So here's the proposal: Aether funds your training needs. That is, tournament fees, equipment costs, personal expenses like travel and your mom's hospital bills—" he raised a hand, forestalling Moon's interruption "—look, we're a billion dollar corporation, it's not a problem. In return, you take on an official role as an Aether spokesperson. You enter tournaments under our sponsorship, wear the company logo, give us some good press if reporters ask. Believe me, when you make champion, it'll be more than worth the investment for us. For the company, that is."

Moon shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous, Gladion. My mom and I can't accept that kind of charity—"

"It's not charity!" Gladion shot back, narrowing his eyes. "Were you listening to a word I just said? It's business. Quid pro fucking quo. You think this is some kind of personal favor? The board will be all over it. They'll tell me I'm a business prodigy again."

"Gladion," Moon said. "You don't get it. I hate living here. I hate my my stupid job, I hate these insipid night classes. I hate that I can't take proper care of my pokemon. But I can't just take your company's money. I can't just let you solve all my problems. I'm not—I can't owe anyone like that."

Gladion looked at her for a long time, and then nodded. "Okay," he said. "I get that. You know why? Because that's how I thought. Better to live in a gutter than take a single hand-out from my mom. But you know what? I was being selfish. Because I left Lillie behind. And you, you're also being selfish. To your pokemon. Who are enduring all this shit for your sake. To your mom. Who, unlike my mother, is actually a good person who wants you to be happy. And to your friends. Because we want you to be happy too. If I told Lillie a tenth of what you've been telling me, she'd be so indignant on your behalf—"

"So don't tell her," Moon mumbled, looking away. "Lillie doesn't need to be burdened with my problems."

"I think you're missing my point," Gladion said. He frowned, suddenly thoughtful. "You sound like Lillie, actually. 'No one needs to be burdened with my problems.' The two of you are some pair, alright."

Moon shut her eyes, leaned back, and tried to think. Her mind was a mess. Life didn't just hand you solutions on a platter. Only . . . it had been different, those magical years in Alola. Tapu Koko had given her that sparkling stone, brimming with untapped power, because it had believed in her. And she'd paid back that belief. Her thoughts drifted back to Lillie, who had given her something very different that first night at the bridge. Lillie had given her trust, and Moon had tried, but she'd never felt herself worthy of it.

"I'll take your offer," Moon said slowly. "But on one condition. Lillie has to be my manager." The second she'd gotten the words out, Moon felt paralyzed. Was that even something she could demand? Maybe Gladion was wrong, and Lillie was happy, off on her own, enjoying her life without Moon –

Gladion grabbed her hands from across the table and squeezed them tight.

"Thank you, Moon," he said. His green eyes were shining. "Thank you."


	4. Time Starts Again

The doorbell rang once.

"Shit," Moon said. She was up to her arms in toxic fluid, cleaning between the crevices of Medusa's spikes.

"Do you want to answer the door?" she asked Medusa. The toxapex undulated her tentacles in a shrug and emitted another burst of liquid poison.

"Thought not." Moon sighed.

The doorbell rang again, with a lightness that somehow suggested polite restraint.

"Coming!" Moon yelled, pretty sure her voice would carry past the thin walls. She worked off her gloves, making sure that her bare skin didn't touch any of the toxic fluid Then she made her way to the front and pulled open the door.

Lillie blinked back at her.

"Oh," Moon said. Lillie. Lillie with her blond hair still in a ponytail, gently swishing back and forth. Lillie with her delicate hesitance, hovering like a butterfree on the threshold. "Um, come in?"

"It's good to see you, Moon," Lillie said, stepping inside. She had a determined air that only emphasized the slight waver in her voice. Lillie made an aborted step forward, turned pink and whispered, "I hope I haven't come at a bad time?"

That's when Moon realized she was still in her "de-tox" cloths – a tattered gray shirt, threadbare pants, and heavy rubber boots. Moon started to grin. "Do you want me to change?" she asked.

Lillie's eyes widened. "Oh, I didn't mean, and I'm sure I didn't intend to imply—"

When Lillie was flustered, she pressed the tips of her fingers against each other and held them out in front of her chest like a shield.

"But you'd prefer it, wouldn't you, if I made myself fit to be seen by civilization?"

"Well you said it, Moon, not I . . ."

They stared at each other and then, at the same time, started to laugh. Lillie' laugh started a restrained giggle, but grew into a unladylike roar as Moon began to guffaw.

"Come in the kitchen," Moon said, when their laughter had died down. "I think we have some biscuits. Kesia will want to say hi, and Hera too. I'll be back in just a few minutes."

She ducked into her room, stripped off her de-tox cloths and hastily pulled on a white blouse and some leggings. It was hard to believe that Lillie was here, sitting in her apartment. Somehow Lillie didn't fit into a drab place like this.

When she came back into the kitchen, Lillie was deep in conversation with Kesia. "I brought a few gifts for your pokemon," Lillie said when she saw Moon. "A charcoal for Kesia, and a smooth stone for Hera . . . I have something for the others as well."

"Thanks, Lillie. That's really thoughtful," Moon said, taking a seat.

"It's really nothing," Lillie said. "It's the least I can do." She placed her fingertips together in her lap and sat up straighter. "I understand I'm to be your manager."

Moon blinked, not expecting Lillie to cut past the smalltalk. "Well-"

"I will do my very best to fulfill this role to the utmost of my capabilities and not let you down, Moon!" Lillie said quickly. She stood up from her seat and began to pace. "I have to admit, I wasn't quite sure what attire is appropriate for a manager. I opted for business casual, in pastel blue to convey openness and energy. However, if that's not adequate I did bring along a varied wardrobe, and can—"

"Lillie," Moon said. "Calm down. What you're wearing is good. It's good because you chose it."

"Because I . . . chose it," Lillie repeated, blinking very fast. "Of course. Have I mentioned that it's awfully good to see you, Moon?"

"No," Moon said, her smile suddenly feeling like a mask. "You haven't."

"Oh." Lillie's hand flew to her mouth. "How remiss of me . . ."

"It's really good to see you," Moon said, but the words sounded forced and inadequate. "How have you been?"

"Me?" Lillie seemed surprised at the question. "Quite well, thank you. And Mother has been doing well too. She's able to walk now, though of course, she's not allowed out of the mansion."

"My heart bleeds for her," Moon said dryly. "I didn't ask about Lusamine. I asked about you. How's the journey going? Have you met new pokemon? Seen new places? It must be wonderful," she added wistfully.

"Y-yes," Lillie stammered. "Very wonderful. And as for yourself, Gladion told me that financial circumstances have prevented you from traveling? But that will change starting now, of course." Her voice had regained its firmness. "A trainer like you, not able to travel! That sort of thing should be illegal."

"It's not just the money," Moon said, looking away. "It's my mom. She has cancer, you know. It feels wrong for me to leave her, when she's so sick . . ."

Lillie put her hand over Moon's. "I understand," she said quietly. "But your mom . . . I'm sure what she wants most in her heart is for you to be happy. She wouldn't want you to suffer for her sake. It's not selfish to fulfill your dreams, if in doing so you fulfill hers."

Moon felt wetness gather in her eyes and blinked. Lillie had this way of putting words together that made everything seem clear.

It suddenly hit Moon how enormously selfish she was being.

"About that . . ." Moon said, trailing off. "I wasn't really thinking when I asked for you to be my manager. I don't want to take you away from your journey."

Lillie stared at her, a faint frown on her face.

"I mean," Moon continued, worried she hadn't made herself clear, "you've been looking forward to it for so long, and now I'm dragging you away just when you were really getting started . . ."

The smile Lillie mustered was so obviously fake that Moon wasn't surprised to see it collapse under its own weight. Lillie pressed the tips of her fingers against each other.

"The truth is . . . oh .. . the truth is . . . it's so awkward to say. I haven't been traveling for months now. I made a few new friends but they didn't like battling and so we traveled, and it was nice, but it, wasn't the same as in Alola. My pokemon kept me company, but there was no one else. People aren't very friendly in Kanto, or, that's not fair, but they weren't to me, not that I blame them, I'm not a very good trainer and I didn't know what to say to anyone, so I said nothing or, or silly things, things that were stupid and didn't matter. Then there was a complication with Mother's health, so I came back to the mansion, and I – decided to stay a while, helping Mother. Since I failed so terribly at being a trainer I thought it was the least I could do . . .'

"You've been—" Moon's mouth was dry. "You've been with Lusamine. For months?"

Lillie nodded energetically. "I've been taking care of her. The attendants don't stay long, they say she's cruel. But I'm used to it, and it feels good, I suppose, do something I'm capable of. I'm not really cut out to be a trainer anyway . . ."

Lillie trailed off, perhaps finally noticing that murder was written on Moon's face.

"Why the fuck," Moon said, "am I hearing Lusamine's words in your mouth."

Lillie flinched. Her mouth worked soundlessly.

"Training's not for everyone. I know that. Hau's given it up. But – being your mom's maid? That's not right. You deserve more than that."

Lillie shook her head. "It's not easy, but that doesn't mean it's not the right thing to do, Moon. It's my responsibility . . ."

"So you're saying I should stay here and support my mom, then?"

"It's different with you," Lillie murmured, not meeting Moon's eyes.

"Different?" Moon said tightly. "Why. Why is it different?"

Lillie looked up. Her eyes were wide and her face was open. She was almost smiling. "Because you're a hero, Moon," she said simply.

A hero. The word bucked in Moon's mind like a rebellious tauros.

When Moon didn't reply, Lillie continued, shyly. "You're a hero. You saved Nebbie, the first time we met, back on the bridge. You used your own body as a shield. And me. You saved me too. From Team Skull and from Lusamine. You saved the _world_."

Moon felt herself going hot and furious. "Did you ever think I saved you because you're worth saving?"

Lillie opened her mouth and then closed it.

"You act like I'm some kind of selfless hero, but I'm not. I'm selfish. Of course I'm selfish. Why do you think I asked for you, anyway?

"Because you needed a manager," Lillie whispered.

"Because I missed you," Moon shouted. "Because you're my friend. Because you're important. Because I," Moon drew in a breath, pushing back the tears suddenly welling up in her eyes, "I _need_ you." The words sounded so vulnerable. They were too close to three other words that Moon had been turning over in her mind. She pressed her eyes shut before the wetness could escape.

"You . . . need _me_?" Lillie said, each word slow and incredulous.

"Don't you realize," Moon said thickly, "That to me you're a hero? Because you did things that scared you every day and you did them just because you thought they were the right thing to do."

Lillie swallowed. "Moon, I—"

"Don't you know that it hurts when you talk like this? Like you aren't worth something? When, to me, you're worth everything?"

Moon looked down, finding it impossible to continue speaking. She could feel Lillie's eyes on her, hear Lillie breathing loudly in the silence. She closed her own eyes, trying to find some equilibrium. She didn't want to cry again, she wanted words: clear, eloquent words that would be like a crystal mirror—words that would show Lillie herself the way Moon saw her.

"Moon," Lillie said finally. Her voice sounded strange—distant and flat. Moon didn't dare to look up. "Am I hired?"

It wasn't the question Moon had expected. "Um," she said. "Yeah. Of course. If you still want to accept."

"Could you tell me, please, what exactly you'll want me to do?"

Moon risked a glance up. Lillie's face was set in an oddly neutral expression, her hands planted on the tabletop. "I'm not sure, really . . ."

"Gladion looked up your tournament history. You lost in the second round, to an opponent with three pokemon remaining. What made that possible?"

The memory made Moon's stomach twist, but Lillie's voice, at least, held no judgement. "They wouldn't let me use Z-crystals," she said. "That was the first sign things were going to be different. And then . . . I've never battled somewhere like that before. So loud, with all these lights and distractions. Back in Alola, I could feel my pokemon, if that makes any sense. I could feel the battle. I—I guess I panicked."

"I see," Lillie said. She was silent for a moment, then spoke with increased warmth. "That's fixable, Moon, that's all fixable. I'll file a complaint against the tournament leagues first. Banning Z-crystals when they allow mega evolution bands is an insult to Alolan tradition. As for the venues—not all of them are like that. We'll start you off at the field tournaments, the ones away from urban centers. You can acclimatize gradually, not all at once." Lillie began to speak faster and faster, punctuating her words with small emphatic gestures.

"That . . that sounds like a really good plan, actually," Moon said, not sure why she was surprised. "I think . . . yeah, I think I could do that."

An old image suddenly dominated her mind—a path up to a mountain, and at the top . . . at the top, the thing she'd been seeking. It was back in focus.

Am I doing this, Moon thought, scared and giddy. Am I really, really doing this?

"Lillie," she said, finally meeting her eyes. "I meant everything I was saying just now. About what you mean to me. And it's not something you have to earn, you know? I mean, whether you could solve my problems or not, that wouldn't change."

Lillie swallowed, but didn't look away. Her silence stretched out, so long that Moon was almost tempted to dismiss the topic—anything to turn Lillie back from a statue into a person.

And then Lillie said, quietly, "I understand. But I don't understand, not really. I understand that you mean what you're saying, because you're Moon, you're honest and you always say what you mean, but I don't understand how you could feel that way about me. And . . .I like making plans, I like fixing things, I like to be able to help. Doing that makes me feel like I am—" her voice faltered "—worth something."

Moon pushed back her chair, walked round the table, and took Lillie's hand. She wasn't sure what to do with it, so she did what her mom always did when she was sad, raised it to her lips and dropped a soft kiss there. Lillie went still for a second, and then she stood too, and was pulling Moon into a tight embrace. Moon could feel the softness of her cheek and smell the salt of unshed tears pooling in her eyes. She hugged Lillie with all of her strength, trying to transmit through the gesture that feeling which she could never get right in words.

At last, Lillie disentangled herself and took a step back. Her eyes were shining.

"I'm not the person you think I am—" she held her hand over Moon's lips when Moon started to protest "—I'm not. But I want to be her—and I think I can be. If I'm with you. Because back in Alola, everything began to feel possible after I met you. As if, instead of running away, there were things I could be running to." She withdrew her hand and clasped it behind her back, looking at Moon with an expectant look.

"I just want you to be Lillie," Moon said helplessly.

Lillie smiled. "I will be. If you'll be Moon. She's my hero, you know." She glanced around the kitchen. "I know it's old-fashioned of me, but would you mind terribly if we made a toast? To Lillie and Moon? And to . . . to being ourselves, together."

Moon nodded. She picked out two glasses from the cupboard and filled them up with razzberry juice. "To Lillie and Moon," she said slowly. "And to our new future, together."

Their glasses came together, in a click. And Moon realized that was the sound it made— her future.

It was already here.


	5. Postscript

"Clanging scales," Moon shouted. She slipped on her headphones in time to drown out the ensuing metallic furor, focusing on the battlefield. Their opponent, a hulking electrivire, winced and stepped back, holding its hands fruitlessly over its ears. "Now finish it with close combat."

She couldn't hear the roar of delight Hera made at the command, but she could see that delight written all over her face as Hera came in close, dispatching the electrivire with a series of quick blows.

It was over.

Moon kept on her headphones to block out the cheering of the tourney crowd. She walked over to her opponent and held out her hand so they could shake. His mouth moved—she pushed her headphones off, hit by the sudden return of noise. The crowd was yelling and stamping. "Sorry?" she said, "I didn't catch that."

He smiled. "Nothing important. Just, thanks for a good match."

"Thanks," Moon said awkwardly. She hesitated, then added, "Your electrivire is strong, but you rely too much on close attacks. If those are disabled, you're left vulnerable."

The trainer nodded slowly, considering her words. "I think I see what you mean. Thank you, for pointing that out, I'll work on it." He tapped her shoulder as she began to move away. "Mind if we take a selfie together?"

"Uh, sure. Let me call over Hera. She loves photos."

When the selfie had been taken, Moon made a beeline for the sidelines. Lillie, waiting for her there, greeted her with a kiss to the cheek.

"Another fan?" Lillie asked.

"They're not fans, Lillie, they're fellow trainers."

"Sure." Lillie's smile was mischievous. "Fellow trainers who just happen to be your fans."

At Moon's side, Hera cackled. Moon gave her a hard jab.

"Excellent job, you two, as always," Lillie said. "The headphones are working okay, Moon?"

"They work perfectly. It's the best idea you've had—and you have a lot of good ideas." She was pleased to see Lillie blush at the compliment, but not refute it. "Let me get cleaned up from the battle, and then we can grab dinner."

"I don't really mind when you're sweaty, Moon," Lillie said. When Moon raised an eyebrow, Lillie blinked innocently.

"Well, I mind," Moon said firmly, taking Lillie's hand.

Back at their hotel room, Moon found two video messages awaiting her. As she towelled down, she clicked play, and Gladion's face appeared on the screen.

"Hey Moon, Lillie. Guess who is the boss of the corporate PR game, plus a business prodigy? It's me. I caught someone grumbling about Moon getting special treatment, so you know what? The Aether Foundation's going to create a standing scholarship for promising trainers in difficult financial circumstances—the Moon Scholarship. Reach for the moon, or some other bullshit tag. Board is all over it, I'm officially brilliant, and Moon, don't even try to argue the name. In fact, we'll have the argument right now. You say, 'but I'm not worthy, bla bla bla,' and I say, 'you're an inspiration, suck it up.' Lillie agrees with me."

Moon turned to see Lillie nodding her agreement. "Traitor," she mumbled.

"Well, it's true, Moon. In the last month you've broken into the tournament's top three position. Everyone who's heard what you faced to get here can't help being inspired. I think this scholarship is a wonderful idea. Gladion doesn't have many of those, but he certainly has had a few."

"It's not the scholarship I'm arguing with," Moon mumbled. "That part's cool."

Lillie looked at her sympathetically. "I know. Look, just ignore it. The name's really not important, is it? But maybe in a few months you'll be facing someone on the battlefield who got there because of you. That would be important."

Moon shook her head, smiling. "You always know what to say."

She deleted Gladion's message, and the next message popped onto the screen. It was from her mom. She was recording from the hospital bed.

"Moon. I saw your battle this morning. You were brilliant, honey. I'm so proud of where you've gotten to, and the wonderful friends who helped you. I'm just calling to let you know I've scheduled my debulking surgery. I was able to pay for it, thanks to your reward money. The process is very safe, and if it succeeds, things should be better for me, for a while, at least. I'll call again after the surgery's been completed. Happy battling!"

The message cut off.

Moon instantly dialed her mom's hospital room number. "Hi, yeah, this is Moon. Can I speak to Laqueta Massani, room 506?" She waited a moment, tapping her foot. "Mom? Mom, why did you tell us about your surgery like I'm not going to be there?"

"Don't you have battles, honey?"

Moon snorted. "There are always battles, but there aren't any battles I can't miss to spend your surgery by your side."

Lillie took the phone, and interjected, "Ma'am? I want to assure you I have Moon's schedule under control. We can easily accommodate a week off while you have your surgery and recover. And Ma'am . . . if I can be so bold to say—I know from personal experience not to argue with Moon when she's made up her mind."

Laqueta laughed. "Thank you, Lillie. I'm glad you're there to look after Moon for me."

"We look after each other Ma'am," Lillie said, beaming.

"So tell me the details, Mom, and we'll see you soon." Moon listened attentively, and then said, "Love you, Mom. See you. Bye bye."

She turned to Lillie as if struck by a sudden thought. "You don't have to come, of course. Maybe you'll want to go see Gladion while I'm with Mom?"

Lillie rolled her eyes, a gesture that Moon always found incredibly out of place for her, but also incredibly endearing. "I'm coming with you, Moon." She held up a hand, freshly polished. "No arguments, please."

"Okay," Moon said, taking her hand.

And it was just as easy as that.


End file.
